


World Drifting

by Recluse



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, IDK what makoto is going on about I guess he's high or something, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recluse/pseuds/Recluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Makoto has always loved books."</p><p>Also known as 'why Makoto wears glasses'</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Drifting

Makoto has always loved books.

When he was younger, much younger, before meeting Haruka younger, he had loved reading picture books, the way the words gave life to the pictures, the way he could escape the world with a few turns over and over again.

The world had been scary, before Haruka, it had been vast and interesting, ever expanding, but vastness was not what Makoto ever wanted. He felt...Scared, of the giantness of the world, one lone figure within millions. It wasn't that bad, not really, but when he could, he immersed himself in the fictional world, where a happy ending always occured, and there were only the important few, rather than the endless many.

Then Haruka had come into his life, or rather, he was drawn to Haruka. Haruka had something he didn't, the ability to block out the vastness of the world and the frightening things in it, and focus on what he wanted. Haruka was his barrier from the universe, and casually became his universe in time, the world became smaller and safer and Makoto loved Haruka for it, left his cozy worlds in books to watch the way Haruka lived.

It was also nice that Haruka also loved books, though not like Makoto. He said it was similar to immersing himself in the water, the same as sinking softly, so long as it wasn't heavy text, just simple, poetic prose.

Makoto liked the heavier, longer books, the tomes full of stories, he was drawn to the formula of chaos and resolution in each one. The way they always found a solid end.

He adjusts his glasses and stands up, stretching.

"Haru-chan, I'm going to turn off the lights, ok?"

Haruka nods. He had been flipping through an old poetry book on Makoto's shelf. The pages he liked were worn, with folded edges and water stains, and Makoto smiles softly at the sight before reaching for the light switch. That had been the first book Haruka had ever brought over.

It wouldn't be the last.


End file.
